Carnage of Being Ripped Into

Devastation brings us together, although preventing pain is non-existent and out of the question. 

They don't want to get to know me; 

They want to hang on to the idea of a person they never knew. 

Maybe I'm totally invisible. A thing concealed away by the appearance of compassion.

I see my family as my cousins, my aunts and uncles, and my grandparents. Being a part of a subsection with my mom and brother,

 I'm a reflection of my family 

It is useless to say my actions are my own 

Everything I do is dependent on them 

Who I love, 

My words, 

My successes, 

And my failures, 

All seen by those in my culture as the collective actions of my family, 

Not of myself 

Most will hate the person that I am and despise the person that I want to be. 

See…

I am Bi.

Evident from my love for all people 

And my disdain for division.

I am non-binary. 

Like my grandma, who called herself 'Jean', with her short hair,

To say that I look like her is the compliment of the century. 

I have depression. 

Who doesn't?

Masked by my perceived shyness and,

My determined determinism 

And PTSD.

Like a soldier returning from war, 

Expect…

I fought my own nightmarish night 

When my family finds out, I will have never existed 

My failures were talked about in secret: 

“She was married to a woman and is divorced.” 

“We don't speak to her.” 

“She hates her stepmother, so she moved halfway across the world.” “I don't want her at my funeral.” 

And maybe that's what I want.

To be free from the collective box of my culture, 

To pretend it doesn't exist,

To pretend my family doesn't exist… 

It would be easier if I didn't care. 

The family members who stand with me are the ones who are my real family.

Is what I say to disregard the truth?

That I do want my family to have acceptance of:

Who I love, 

My words,

My successes,

And my failures,

Do I want to be an individual married with loneliness or live entrenched in my search for love within my culture? 

Found family could be my savior only if I accomplish the search to have two lives.

One where this person is accepted and one where I am my culture. 

Part of what exactly? 

My culture, in which I am no longer a person, 

Perhaps my found family, which is yet to be conceived, 

If I fail in my endeavour, then to be alone forever.

– Mariam